


Bedzone

by my_inked_asterism



Series: Bedzone series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_inked_asterism/pseuds/my_inked_asterism
Summary: Fic Request:  Lydia gags on her toothbrush when she brushes her tongue but not when she does other things. ;) Make with that what you will. written for stydia-fanfiction





	

**Author's Note:**

> I AM NOT ASHAMED
> 
> I'm [lydias-martin](http://lydias-martin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to come to say hi.
> 
> Also, leave kudos and comments if you like this, it would mean a lot to me! Enjoy, and thanks so much for reading :)

Stiles slams oblivious the door behind him and curses himself the moment it shuts closed with a loud noise that seems to echo in the silence of the house. 

 

More careful this time, he climbs the stairs in the dark with the only result of smashing his toe in one rung and bites his lower lip to repress a cry of pain. 

 

Limping, he gets to the bedroom and pulls slowly down the knob to open it, trying to not make a sound, the soft light of the bedside lamp coming out from the lower split. He opens it and the door squeaks.  _ Shit _ . Stiles decides he would probably be less noisy to get it opened with one fast move, like the wax… He's always heard Lydia talking about it. So he does it. 

 

He breaks in as silent as the door allows him to. Turns around immediately to keep it ajar. He shoves his knee in the corner and winces loudly. 

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Yes.” He sighs, suffering of his own clumsiness. 

 

When he turns around Lydia is sitting on her side of the bed with a basket of popcorns right beside her, her laptop on the lap and an earphone in her hand. 

 

“What are you doing awake?” He takes off his shoes and gets on the bed next to her, greeting her with a small peck on her lips. 

 

“Couldn't sleep without you.” 

 

Forgetting about the fact that he probably got more bruises in the past five minutes than the ones he had during the whole senior year just to not wake her up, his expression warms immediately at her tenderness, thinking about how much she looks like a child who couldn't fall asleep without her teddy bear. 

 

It didn't happen that often though but nightmares were hard to stop. It’s been a year by now since the Ghost Riders had been defeated and everyone finally had remembered about him but sometimes Lydia still woke up at night and checked desperately the space beside her to verify if he was still there, frightened as hell to lose him again. They had missed each other so much that Stiles couldn't help but sympathize her. He felt the same way after all, he never stopped hoping for her to remember him while he was stuck in that oblivion-like limbo. 

 

Lydia once confessed she had missed him even when she couldn't remember him.

 

He kisses her on the forehead and stretches one hand to rub her back instinctively, causing her shoulders to bend at once under his touch. 

 

“What were you watching?”

 

“Sex and the city.” 

 

He pouts. He hates that series. It just gives women an unrealizable utopia of romances. When Stiles found out Lydia was actually pretty into it and acknowledged what the show was about he realized he would have had to compete with Mr. Big for the rest of his life. 

 

With his free hand Stiles closes the screen of the computer and gently gets it off of her lap, replacing it with his arm. 

 

“What if I go change my clothes and you stop idealizing other boys and try to fall asleep instead?” He says smirking. 

 

“I already have my ideal boy,” she whispers while leaning to take his lower lip in her mouth. 

 

He groans slightly.

 

“Yeah, totally gotta change clothes.”

 

Lydia lets out a small laugh, “Fine, i’m going to the bathroom to wash my hands from the butter or i’ll become a popcorn myself,” and she stands up, putting the laptop down to the floor. 

 

He gets rid rapidly of his deputy uniform and puts the pants of the pajamas on but waits to wear the shirt. Ugh, he smells horrible. 

 

Heading to the bathroom, he still hears the water pouring in the sink through the door. He gets in and meets Lydia bending on the the counter, brushing her teeth and wearing a silky gown he hadn't noticed before under the cuvet. 

 

She turns to him with her mouth full of foam, “Whaa ya doin?”

 

Why was he even turned on at that sight? 

 

“Uhm, looking for the deodorant.” 

 

He searches in his cabinet, turning his back on his girlfriend as he did so, and finds it. 

 

On the glass of the panel he can glimpse the reflection of Lydia in front of the the bigger mirror behind him. 

 

Her hips shake a little while she’s brushing her teeth. His eyes linger on the curve of his perfect ass waving and then slide up to her spine, her porcelain skin, the neck he’s always eager to kiss. His glance rests to her own reflection on the mirror before her as she bends down to spit the toothpaste and to take a sip of water from the tap, showing the bra-less cleavage and something more. 

 

Frustrated, Stiles turns around abruptly. The small space doesn't help him with the manoeuvre so he accidentally brushes his middle against her butt while she’s still leaned forward. 

 

He suffocates a groan and Lydia hopefully doesn't seem to notice anything so he tries to act normally even though he could feel his dick hardening in his boxers. 

 

Everything and nothing at the same time is sexually frustrating in that situation. 

 

Lydia stands straight and throws a glance at him through the mirror, probably wondering why he was standing immobile behind her with his jaw wide opened for no apparent reason. She stares at him quizzically after when her eyes drop to the bulge under his pajamas and smirks, still without moving. 

 

He follows her look and realizes her awareness, turning slightly pink but keeping his position still, not knowing very well what she got in mind.

 

Suddenly, she takes back her toothbrush and rotates it to the tongue-cleaner side. 

 

Stiles just got it and his eyes widen in shock mixed with lusty desperation when she takes off her tongue and starts passing the toothbrush on it, slowly. 

 

He swallows. That’s too much.

 

Lydia closes her eyes as she pushes the thing deeper in her mouth, rolling her hips back to Stiles’. The tool gets almost to her throat when she coughs slightly and takes it off of her mouth, her lips forming a perfect O as she does so. 

 

Finally, she turns around and faces him, the smirk still stuck on her face while she swallows hard mischievously and cleans the tracks of spit left on the corners of her mouth with one hand. 

 

His hands had slid unconsciously down to rest on her hips and Lydia uses that encouragement to close the distance between them and places her own hands on his chest. Stiles pulls her closer and kisses her forcefully , slowly moving his mouth in and out while their tongues meet each other and explore the other’s mouth. 

 

Lydia rubs harder her hips against his bulge making him groan for the frustration. In response, Stiles sucks her bottom lips in his mouth and grabs her ass to make sure she could feel  _ everything _ . His hands wander down on her thighs and he is about to lift her up when she stops him by pushing him backwards towards the door, heading to their bedroom. 

 

“Bed,” she manages to say breathlessly, before colliding back against his lips. 

 

“Uhm,” Stiles follows her movements, backing as much as she silently orders him to until he finds himself with the back of his legs smashed against the mattress, so that he’s forced to sit down on the edge and watch Lydia towering over him like a powerful and stunning goddess in her beautiful salmon silky gown that fits her so perfectly, “I love when you bedzone me.”

 

She smirks but her eyes couldn't help but beam as they meet his, holding so much awe only for her.

 

They stare at each for what it seems an eternity to him and then they move simultaneously. Stiles shifts backwards on the mattress to make her room, she leans onto the bed and crawls toward him until she is on top of his body and he is lying on his back, his hands on her waist to support her. Her ass on his lap suddenly slides down to his hardness causing him to let out a moan of pleasure for the friction she is creating with her hips. Lydia grins widely at his reaction and leans forward to catch his mouth, parting his lips with her swollen ones, moving her mouth in sync with her hips, going back and forth on his middle. 

 

Grabbing her hips, he guides her movements with his hands and lifts his own hips to increase the pressure against her panties.  When he feels her mouth sucking hard on his neck he reaches instinctively the lacy hem of her gown, craving to feel her bare skin under his touch and against his body. But, as a broken spell, she abruptly stops doing whatever she was doing with her awesome mouth and pulls back, staring at him with a wild look on her eyes. 

 

Her hair is a messy strawberry blonde storm around her face, falling down the porcelain skin of her shoulders covered in freckles. The bright emerald of her eyes creates a weird and beautiful contrast with all the red around them, from her hair to her lips and her cheeks. How she can look wild and classy, dangerous and soft, powerful and fragile at the same time had always been a blur to Stiles. 

 

She is his favorite unsolved case.

 

Her grin is thoughtful now, eyes narrowed, biting her bottom lip as if she were deciding the best torture to proceed with to end him once for all. 

 

If this is torture, Stiles thinks, suffering’s never been so good. 

 

He tries to pull her down to him, supporting his weight on his elbow and stretching his free hand to cup her face but she retires again and crawls back with a mischievous look in her eyes that Stiles couldn't decipher. 

 

“Lydia, what--” 

 

The sentence dies in his throat when Lydia parts his legs to rest between them and unceremoniously lowers the waistband of his pajamas to his thighs, resting her palms on the hems of his bowers and starting placing wet kisses along the happy trail on his belly, going slowly down.

 

Stiles inhales sharply when her mouth reaches the waistband of the boxers, sliding one hand into it to take off the indument while the other squeezes gently his member from above the material. He feels his eyes rotate under the eyelids for the pleasure of the moment; as they shut closed the image of Lydia gagging on the toothbrush shows up again in his mind and he places one big hand on the side of her head by reflex to encourage her, shifting a little bit forward with his hips. 

 

She starts by kissing hotly the tip, taking it in more and more deeply as she keeps going on. Then she moves slowly and one hand immediately gets to rest to the base of his dick, stroking it hard enough to not make him come yet too fast. Her mouth follows the same rhythm, licking in and out and adding just the perfect pressure with her lips, pulling  back every so often to place a kiss on his inner thigh or to lick her way down his shaft just to go up again and work back on the tip. 

 

And he is literally dying. He can feel his climax slowly building up in his belly but she is taking her time to work him - and he just doesn't feel like complaining. 

 

He jerks once against her mouth and feels Lydia’s hands resting on his hips to force him to stay steady despite his attempt to move in sync with her mouth. He starts combing her hair, pulling her closer sometimes but not too rudely, moaning things among her name which his mind is too overwhelmed to give them some kind of logic. 

 

Her left hand slides down to massage him while the other remains still on his right hip. For the first time, her eyes open and she holds her chin up a little to check him out. He realizes that and points his elbows to look down at her, flushed and awed for how hot she looks. 

 

The thoughts seem to filter through his mind  and he suddenly glimpses a light shade of red flooding from her neck, up to her cheeks. It is hard to stay focused when the hand of your girlfriend is wrapped around your cock, looking directly at you with a mix of fondness and lust, but Stiles still tries to avoid his crescent orgasm and moves his hand from her hair to her face, cupping her cheek softly and caressing it with his thumb. 

 

Lydia smiles at him. Tenderly this time, her eyes beaming and holding so much light he thinks he could've stayed there watching them forever. 

 

She leans again, after that minute that felt like a hour, and takes him back in her mouth, rolling her tongue around him but without breaking the eye contact, not even once. 

 

He struggles to keep staring at her but still unable to look away anyway, stunned by her beauty. There is fire in her eyes, and so much passion he suddenly feels his sight blackening for a moment, a blackout crossing his mind.

 

“Lydia--  _ oh _ , i’m gonna--”

 

Stiles shifts back to warn her but Lydia just seems unwilling to let go so she starts moving faster, her head going up and down with her left hand while the other had slid down to rest on his thigh. 

 

“Lydia--!”

 

And he groans her name when he comes. Her lips still around him.

 

His hips jerks violently, his sight becoming white for a while, his heart pumping harder than ever in his lower belly. 

 

When he gains his senses back and feels conscious enough to speak, he opens back his eyes, glaring at the girl between his legs that had already sit up on the bed. 

 

Their eyes meet, a wild and strong love reflected in both their looks. 

 

And she swallows. 

 

His jaw falls. 

 

“What …?”

 

Lydia climbs to his lap and leans to kiss him softly on his lips, before giving him a small peck on one cheek and cuddling against his side. Stiles supports himself on the elbow to tower over her, sliding one arm around her waist and staring at her wordless, unable to elaborate a proper sentence despite the many that float in his head at that moment. 

 

He just stares at her, mesmerized. 

 

She tilts her head with a quizzical expression.

 

“You never did that.” He nods his head at his body, knowing she caught what he is talking about. 

 

“I know,” she bites her lip, “It just felt … natural.”

  
  


He closes the distance and kisses her, cupping her jaw with his free hand. He tries to put all the admiration and love and fondness he can in that kiss. Judging the glare she gives him when he pulls back, he thinks she got all of it. 

 

“I love you.” He whispers, tangling his fingers in her messy hair.

 

“I love you too. So much.”

 

He smiles softly, thinking he will never get used of those words. Then he shifts position to stay on top of her and starts kissing her again, sweetly initially then hotly when he moves to bite her earlobe, licking the spot under it.

 

“What are you doing?” Lydia says breathlessly, her eyes fluttering already. 

 

Stiles grins against her skin, “My turn now.”


End file.
